


Life in Red

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because Now That's a Tag Apparently Which is Sad, Castiel Smokes, Depressed Dean, Good Parent Mary Winchester, Grieving Dean, Homeless Castiel, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Dean, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Masturbation but only sorta, Memory Lane, Post-Break Up, TW: Mention of Past Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 12:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12457881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Dean’s sure many stories are threaded into the hoodie that Cas hadn’t even begun to tell him. But over time, the jacket became more than just a jacket Cas picked up at the local laundromat—it became what Dean realizes now as an unintentional symbol of their relationship.Every memory they made together is on there, and every time he slides his fingers over certain spots like he is right now, he’s thrust into one.





	Life in Red

 

_"I'm still rocking your hoodie_

_And chewing on the strings_

_It makes me think about you_

_So I wear it when I sleep_

_I kept the broken zipper_

_And cigarette burns_

_Still rocking your hoodie_

_Baby, even though it hurts.”_

_-“Hoodie”, Hey Violet_

 

Dean's always hated the color red.

Red is the color of a lot of things he'd rather not associate with. His dad's face, for one, when he’s high off on an angry stupor. The rose he left on his mom's grave on the third anniversary of her death. The blood that trickled down his arm faster than tears ever could after graduation, when she wasn't there to witness her son years after he blew up, yelling that he couldn’t do it, that wasn’t as smart as Sam, and she held him safe and secure in a hug that lasted well over an hour.

And now, to add to the color's reputation, he has his ex-boyfriend's red hoodie in his possession, draped across his body as he lies in bed. The same ex-boyfriend that told him he can't be with someone who brings him down as much as Dean does.

Isn't that the clincher? Since Cas is the one thing in his life that makes him happy.

Red. It’s the color of passion and pain. And fabric. Fabric that carries many memories in its fly-away threads.

Cas was homeless at seventeen. A whole year before he met Dean, and even then, he was still getting back on his feet and would crash at Dean’s—sometimes for days at a time before Cas felt he overstayed his welcome and would escape through the window.

It all sounds very Romeo and Juliet picturesque, but Dean wasn’t out to his dad at the time, so he not only had to hide a second person in the house, but a very _male_ second person, and that took its toll on Dean—more than having to explain why all the frozen burritos had been disappearing at an alarming rate.

Anyway, Dean’s sure many stories are threaded into the hoodie that Cas hadn’t even begun to tell him. But over time, the jacket became more than just a jacket Cas picked up at the local laundromat—it became what Dean realizes now as an unintentional symbol of their relationship.

Every memory they made together is on there, and every time he slides his fingers over certain spots like he is right now, he’s thrust into one.

He lifts his hand and slides his thumb across the two circular brown marks next to the right-hand pocket, sending fire scorching across the side of his breasts, much like the origin of the marks. Cigarette burns. The one closest to the sleeve, that one is his favorite. It’s no bigger or smaller than the one to the left of it, but it holds perhaps his most cherished memory…

_“Cas!” Dean hisses._

_Cas turns his head to where Dean’s pointing. It’s a no-smoking sign on the wall. Dean’s not even sure how he found the time to light a cigarette when Dean got back from taking a piss. “C’mon, live a little,” Cas encourages. He demonstrates his stance again, leaning out the window on the fourth story building as he takes another drag. “See, I’m not smoking_ in _here, am I?”_

_Dean sighs. Honestly, he can’t argue with how good Cas looks in a suit—a loan from Dean (from a prom date he never went to, thanks to his dad) that Cas used for a job interview. A high-end one, too. Some guy who turned out to be a big business head in the world of advertising happened to be the same guy Cas checked out at the Gas ‘N Sip. He caught a glimpse of what Cas was drawing and practically offered him a job on the spot._

_Needless to say, Cas nailed the interview, and is now smoking in the very building he’ll be working in, because that’s Cas if it ever was._

_Then he turns around fully to face Dean, facing the butt of his cigarette towards the open window. “Thank you, really. I couldn’t have done this without you.”_

_“You’re the artist, not me.”_

_“No, no, I mean… I don’t know,” Cas says. “I guess I’m just not used to people supporting me. Obviously, being kicked out by my own parents and all. You’ve just… been a really good friend.”_

_Dean smiles, but can’t stop the blush that’s creeping up on him. He looks down, as if the marble floors will supply him confidence. “Yeah, no… it’s my pleasure. Um…” Dean pauses, still clutching Cas’s hoodie in his hands. “Do you want out of that?”_

_Cas grins with all his teeth and gums. “You know me too well.”_

_Once Dean helps Cas out of the blazer and Cas is back in his signature clothing, they start doing this thing where they’re staring at each other, and Dean finds it hard to breathe, and not because of the secondhand smoke that tickles his nose. “Can I ask you a question?”_

_Cas nods, but narrows his eyes in concern. “Anything, Dean.”_

_However, instead of asking a physical question, Dean leans in and captures his lips. They’re soft despite being a bit chapped, reminding Dean of sinking into a new pillow._

_He pulls back, only to find Cas smiling just as wide, despite having not even noticed he lost control of his cigarette. It left in its destructive wake-up call a burn mark next to the right-hand pocket of his hoodie._

Dean’s thumb swipes across the second burn mark mere inches apart, and instantly curses himself in both frustration and pleasure when he glides over his nipple.

_Dean walks out of the bathroom—Cas’s bathroom, in his new apartment he’s able to afford now—with a laugh. “No,” he says, “we can’t.”_

_Cas grins up at him, tapping his ashes so they fall on his hoodie, tucked between the bare mattress and his naked body. The ashes crackle then fizzle out, like a stop light in the far distance. “Why not?”_

Dean moves down the length of his body in favor of the zipper. It’s long since been broken, and not because Cas found it that way. Dean still recalls that night. They were at Plucky’s and Cas stepped outside to take a smoke break. A few minutes later, Dean joined him outside…

_“You mad because I’m killing it at Pac-Man?”_

_Cas just laughs through his pursed lips, “Sorry,” he says, blowing smoke from his mouth like a freight train before he puts out his cigarette on the wall behind him—accurate, considering he’s spent a good portion of his life wandering. Whoever says street lights aren’t worth the tax dollars obviously haven’t seen Cas’s blue eyes shining underneath them. “I’m trying to quit. I guess it’s just a comfort thing, you know?”_

_Dean nods. “No, no, I understand,” he says, stepping closer. “What I don’t understand is why you’d_ wanna _quit.”_

_Cas tilts his head in the cute way he does. “What? Why wouldn’t I want to quit?”_

_“Because,” Dean replies, taking another step forward before propping his arm next to Cas, “I wouldn’t want to fuck you nearly as hard as I want to right now.”_

_Cas’s mouth parts, and instead of gripping onto his sanity, grips Dean’s coat. Pushing Dean to the opposite wall, he kisses him fiercely, violently, like Dean’s his deserted island—Cas’s only source of water to quench his barbaric thirst. Dean breaks the kiss to yank Cas’s zipper down, but it gets stuck on his green shirt underneath. Dean yanks on it again and then one more time before the zipper gives in and just falls off the zip line._

Dean’s hand somehow slips further during the course of the memory, hovering over the front of his tented boxers. He lowers his hand just a little bit, teasing. Like a justice scale, Dean’s upper body arcs up—but not too far. No. Because the real justice that’s to be served is for Cas. Dean’s the one who ruined everything for not being enough for Cas.

So if Cas won’t get him off anymore, neither will he. 

As Dean brings his palm down again, this time with even lighter pressure, a knock presents itself at his window.  Dean turns to see what he has to be hallucinating: Cas.

Before he can think—because even if this is a hallucination, it’s a damn good one to be in—Dean moves to the window and opens the latch, his heart pounding.

Cas climbs in, soaking wet, and that’s when Dean notices the rain. Maybe because Dean’s been repressing the urge to cry too. Cas is breathing hard, like he ran all the way over.  They’re just standing in front of each other before Cas speaks up first:

“You don’t bring me down,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I bring me down.”

Dean musters a nod through the tears spilling over his cheeks. “Me too.”

 

 

Red is also the color of love.


End file.
